


Repetition

by essexgrl68



Category: Blur
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 16:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10722552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essexgrl68/pseuds/essexgrl68
Summary: Music:  variety of things.  Elton John, Gorillaz, The Kinks.Disclaimer:  as always, the boys belong to themselves, this is fiction, they serve as inspiration only.Notes:  inspired by the excess of affection currently on display EVERYWHERE.  Also a bit of a birthday gift.  The Forster is not even hidden this time.  Please, everyone read “Maurice.”





	Repetition

Repetition

London, 19th February 2015  
The scarlet themed room was full of people: press, photographers, good old Zane Lowe acting as ringmaster, Streetie at their side, Smog looking on from behind the journalists. Damon had worn red, lucky red for the Chinese New Year. “It’s all a blur right now”; Damon smiled at the bad pun he’d thought to himself. It was, literally, a Blur. The world was watching a bit of British music history being written in a Chinese restaurant in London. “Let’s get the band together, one more time!” Again. He was astonished at his own reaction to it all; the sheer happiness that enveloped him, and how comfortable this all felt, but new and fresh at the same time. All due to one person, the same one that had been making him by turns deliriously happy, confused, infuriated, peevish, and deliriously happy again for thirty-five years. This was really Graham’s day, Graham’s project, and Damon had eyes for only him in that moment. He clasped his always over-active hands together, for fear that they’d embarrass him, and leaned into the familiar figure in the purple tinted glasses next to him, grin spreading over his face. Rocking excitedly like a child, he bent to Graham’s ear, almost grazing the back of his neck with his lips. “This is all your fault, thank you. I love you, Graham.” Just loud enough for the guitarist to catch it, and shuffled a bit closer to his friend. Graham’s face twitched, he grimaced, then broke into a delighted smile. Then back to business, after another stolen, treasured moment of intimacy in the view of the world. 

Stanway Comprehensive, Colchester, Spring Term 1980  
Damon couldn’t keep his eyes off him, and it was making him insane. This wasn’t like him. He was getting used to the persistent attentions of various females in the school population and took some delight in teasing them, then rebuffing their shy pre-adolescent advances. Gave a boost to his confidence. But this was entirely different in so many ways and it was messing him up, making him angry, making his insides quake whenever the boy happened to appear. The boy had been hanging out with the other outsider 2-Tone followers; dark hair and wide brown eyes, slim to the point of skinniness, awkward and seemingly shy, habitually touching long fingers to his nose or messing his hair, or chewing his nails. Damon’s surreptitious study had been going on for about a week but he’d still not encountered the boy face-to-face. From overhearing shouted salutations he’d gleaned that the newcomer’s name was Graham. Coxon. So they shared unusual surnames. It was the daydreams he was having that were making him upset, silly rose-tinted romantic scenarios where he stroked the dark hair softly, drew the chewed fingers away from the pink, pretty mouth and kissed them himself. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to look at another boy and immediately think, “beautiful, you’re beautiful.” They were preventing him from displaying his usual cocky self-assuredness and introducing himself properly. And they were making him furious at this boy who didn’t even know he existed.

One overcast spring afternoon he spotted Graham in back of the music hut, in the middle of his huddle of spotty compatriots, the pack of them clad in the usual quasi-mod suits and brogues. The agony had gone on long enough, he had to do something to just speak to him, to be near him for even a minute. Looking for any excuse, he honed in on the boy’s shoes, of a popular style, but a cheaper make than his own. Conversation stopped abruptly in the group as he stalked over and looked into the face of his innocent tormentor. Huge brown eyes. Beautiful, you’re beautiful. “Your brogues are crap, mate. Look, mine are the proper sort.” Those enormous dark chocolate eyes widened under perfect wing-like brows, and the lovely lips opened a little in surprise. Damon huffed a little, caught sight of his own reflection in the window of the Portakabin and fluffed up his hair, determined to keep up his facade despite the nausea rising in his gut. He stalked off, elated and devastated at the same moment, new words forming in his head. “I love you, Graham Coxon.” 

Goldsmiths College, London, 1988  
Steven Alexander James was ever so slightly drunk, more than slightly beautiful, and absolutely in love with the wisp of a boy that he was loudly serenading in the latter’s dorm room at Goldsmiths College. Two bottles of Tennant’s lager and one of cheap red plonk sat open on the windowsill. It was early evening and they had decided without a doubt that any scholarly responsibilities for the day had ended. Alex’s line of study was evident in the song he had chosen to warble to Graham, who had given up trying to accompany him on his guitar, and lay giggling at the spectacle of his lanky friend, hair flopped over his angular face, swaying with his hands pressed to his chest: 

C'est lui pour moi. Moi pour lui  
Dans la vie,  
Il me l'a dit, l'a jure pour la vie  
Et des que je l'apercois  
Alors je sens en moi  
Mon coeur qui bat  
Des nuits d'amour a ne plus en finir  
Un grand bonheur qui prend sa place  
Des enuis des chagrins, des phases  
Heureux, heureux a en mourir  
Quand il me prend dans ses bras  
Il me parle tout bas,  
Je vois la vie en rose

“Al, I’m not over-fond of Edith. It’s Audrey I fancy. If you’re trying to seduce me, “Moon River” would be a much better choice.” Alex flung himself down onto the bed beside Graham, dramatically pouting. “I’ve not had enough to drink yet, Gra, pass over the wine.” 

They’d met on the first day of classes, outside the College entrance with their parents not yet departed, and had spent many an evening together, at the Student Union, or in each other’s rooms, Alex’s famous for having a door that refused to close. Alex, thinking back, reckoned his heart had been stolen at first glance. Being Alex, he was chalking it all up to the new freedom of college life, a common love of pop music, and his own choice to adopt a libertine attitude towards life in general. He’d flirted outrageously with Graham and had received a lot of blushing and giggling in response, but their intimacy hadn’t gone beyond many talks late at night about books, music, politics, aspirations. From these conversations he’d discovered that there was an old flame in Graham’s life that was still burning bright. Alex’s crush gave the friendship a little extra warmth and had provided him some interesting fantasies, but he wasn’t willing to ruin the companionship he’d gained by pushing his luck and making an overt pass. Besides, he had no experience in that regard. He’d bide his time. 

Graham strummed and sang in his sweet choir-boy voice:  
Moon River, wider than a mile  
I’m crossing you in style someday  
Oh, dream maker, you heartbreaker  
Wherever you’re going, I’m going your way. 

“She’s exquisite, isn’t she, Al? Those doe-eyes. I need a poster of her for this grotty room.” Graham pushed his glasses up and glanced around the walls, now covered with push-pinned sketches of his own making. “Just draw her, Gra. Would be much better. Good practice, too.” 

The noise from the hallway increased, more students getting back to digs after classes ended. It was Friday night, the parties would be starting soon. There was a timid knock at the door and Alex took the two steps needed to get to it and peered out at the intruder. He was taken aback by the figure slouched against the opposite wall. Pan. No, Puck, a slight, blond, blue-eyed version of the Shakespearian sprite, black wide-necked jersey, too-large jeans barely held up by a slumping belt, sandals on his feet, and a somewhat absurd bead necklace adorning a long, graceful neck. His face didn’t seem quite real, too beautiful. Corrupt angel came to Alex’s mind, unbidden. He grinned at the slightly sullen looking boy. “Viens-t’en, mon cheri, ne soyez pas timide.” 

“Thought this was Graham’s room? The girl down the hall told me. Is he about?” The voice seemed incongruously deep to be coming from that face, and held traces of East London.   
“The lady in question is in residence...Graham? You’re in luck, mate.” Alex held the door open for the scowling lad, who pushed past him as Graham sat up on the bed. “Dames! Oh, Damon.”

Aha. Finally a face to the name. Alex couldn’t blame Graham for being smitten. This ‘attracted to boys’ thing was new to him but he couldn’t deny the pang of desire that had hit him when he’d appraised the newcomer. He settled himself onto a pile of clothes in the corner and observed the reunion. Consider this more education, he thought.

The transformation of Damon’s face when he saw his friend was astonishing. He was radiant, beaming. Graham clasped Damon’s hands in his own and they laughed at one another for a moment. Graham pulled him down onto the bed into a tight embrace, Damon grabbing for his face and planting baby kisses on his mouth. “I missed you, missed you, Grem. I love you.” He nuzzled, puppylike, at Graham’s neck. Graham giggled madly. “You idiot. You’re in town for good, now, yeah?” He sat up, bringing the blond boy with him, keeping their arms close round each other, Damon’s head resting on his shoulder. “Signed up for two courses here and I’ve got work in a studio and a hotel...free studio time, Graham!” Graham indicated the figure in the corner. “Damon, this is Alex. Studying French. Plays bass.” Alex moved into a crouch and extended his hand, Damon’s mood now changed enough to be gracious enough to accept it and nod back. “I’ve heard stories about you, he talks of not much else, really.” Damon’s smile was charming, Alex thought. The two of them looked ravishing, sitting tangled into each other on the bed. Alex had a sudden flash of them engaged in more intimate pursuits and felt his cock twitch. He’d love to ask if that intuition were based in reality, but not at the moment. 

“Have you been home, Dames?” Graham asked, playing with his friend’s hair.  
“Yes, at the weekend, and Hazel’s sent something for you.” Damon scrambled about in his jeans pocket, finding and drawing out a delicate beaded necklace, similar to his own. “Do you like it?” Graham nodded, blushing. “It’s lovely...I’ll call her to thank her. Put it on, please?” He turned his back to Damon, who couldn’t resist kissing the nape of his neck before tying the necklace in place. 

Alex didn’t have to ask his question any longer. This...this could be interesting, he thought, resting his chin on his knees and smiling at the lovers still cooing in front of him. College just might offer more than one kind of education.

Camden Town, London, 12th March 1993  
Graham started a bit when his own door opened to him without him unlocking it. The train had got him back from his parents a little earlier than he’d anticipated. It’d been a pleasant day, a birthday luncheon with them that he’d dressed up a bit for, and he was looking forward to tea and a bath. And he was certain that he’d locked the flat before leaving in the morning...but he knew who had a key. He stepped inside. The table was set for two and he could smell something savoury from the oven. Music on the stereo, classical, violin - Tchaikovsky? Damon. Birthday meal. Nice. 

“Hello Dames, I know you’re here somewhere, I’m back!” Nothing. Damn the man, he’d probably pop out of a cupboard at him, his own version of surprise hide and seek. He could be such a child at times. Graham secretly loved it, despite complaining and pulling faces at him when it happened. Damon always got him laughing in the end. Amongst other things. 

Graham sighed and shrugged, may as well play along. “Right, the flat’s not a palace. Unless you’re in the loo, it must be the bedroom. Get ready, I’m coming in.” There was just a bedside lamp burning in the room but Graham could distinguish Damon’s shape tucked under the covers. “Are you having a kip? Wakey-wakey, I’m home.” The bedclothes moved and a dishevelled mop of blond hair emerged from around the pillows, wide blue eyes just peeking out at Graham. “Happy Birthday, Grem.” Graham moved closer to the bed. “Are you...are you wearing make-up?” he giggled. “What’re you up to?” Graham’s curiosity was genuinely piqued and the pretty eyes lined with black, lashes thick and feminine, made his groin stir. This WAS interesting.

“Planned a surprise, but now I’m shy. Second-guessing myself, I suppose.” 

Graham scoffed at him. “YOU? Nah, never. C’mon, get up and give me my surprise.” 

“Awright…” Damon threw off the covers and laid back against the pillows, arms above his head. He stretched his tawny body out and Graham grabbed for the chair next to the bed, out of breath in an instant. He’d thought it was an old wive’s tale that you could faint from desire, but apparently not. His cock was so hard so fast that it really did seem to be drawing blood from his head. Damon smiled slyly at him, eyelashes batting furiously, his tongue delicately tracing his pinked upper lip. He was splendidly bare except for sheer black stockings held up by some kind of magic with tiny black bows at his thighs and….Christ! ...black lace panties. Graham’s face was brilliant with blush and one hand twirled madly in his hair and almost unconsciously he palmed his erection with the other. “How? Where?” he gasped, indicating the lingerie. Damon chuckled. “This IS London, love. Shops of all kinds in Camden.” He caressed the top of one thigh and let his hand wander up to his own burgeoning erection. “Do you like it? Thought you might.” He winked. 

Graham made his mind slow down. He wanted to enjoy being this turned-on. It wasn’t like it was something new, Damon had been delighting in trying all kinds of things to devastate him this way for a good long time. Tease. Let him tease you. It always turns out WONDERFULLY. “How did you know….?” 

Damon chuckled. “Not only do I love you madly, I can read your mind. So, supper is ready, but it can wait...do you want me, or it, first?” “That’s a stupid question, Damon. I’m just afraid simply looking at you is going to make me cum in my pants, my pretty boy.” Graham gave his cock another squeeze, holding back a groan. 

“I’d just lick you all up and we’d start over, darling.” Damon swung his legs over the bed and stood up, leaning over to kiss Graham’s neck and lick up to his earlobe as Graham’s hands slid up the back of his thighs, over the silky material, unable to hold back the moans now. “Do you want me to tell you what I’ve been imagining all day?” Damon breathed into his ear. “I was such a good boy, I wanted so badly to touch myself but I didn’t...it’s all for you.” 

“Christ!” Graham gasped and took Damon’s head in his hands, kissing the lipsticked mouth almost savagely. “Fucking tease…uhhh, don’t stop, keep talking. And walk around for me. Want to see you.” Damon grinned, straightening up and turning slowly, swaying his hips lasciviously, just out of Graham’s reach, taking a few steps away, moving gracefully as he sang softly “I’m not dumb but I can’t understand, why she walks like a woman but talks like a man, oh my Lola...L..O...L..A...Lola… You look so sweet in that suit, Grem. Little boy all done up for the family party. I’ve been thinking about undressing you, if you’ll let me.” The blue eyes were getting hazy with lust and one hand pinched at his own nipples and slid down to touch his own cock, bulging under the black lace. Graham nodded at him, panting now. “What else, Dames?” 

“Well, I want you to fuck me, silly boy. Want you to tell me to take off my nice panties for you. I think...I think I want to sit in your lap and ride that gorgeous cock of yours, actually. Do all the work for you. Unless...you want to fuck my mouth first? I made it all pretty for you, didn’t I?” 

Graham had had enough, writhing now, sweat dampening his forehead. He growled “Come here and stand in front of me”, already loosening his tie and starting to unbutton his shirt. Damon unfastened the remaining buttons as Graham licked at his belly and grabbed at the stockings again, bringing his hands up to the taut arse under the panties. He drew Damon towards him and pressed his lips to the wetness spreading at the front of the lace, using his tongue to tease at the heated length inside. Damon shuddered and tensed, his head going back, eyes closed. “Ohhhh naughty boy, yes, Graham.” Graham looked up at him. He’s too beautiful. All gold and pink and he tastes marvellous this is too much… “Damon, look at me.” His lover immediately looked down into his face. “Thank you, my love.” For a moment the roles were set aside and they gazed at each other, lovingly, thankfully. “You’re welcome, pet.” 

It took only seconds for lust to take over again and Graham’s arms reached up around Damon’s neck, bringing him down for a fierce kiss. “Get on your knees.” Damon grinned. Supper was definitely going to wait.

Soho House Club, London, August 1995  
Damon closed the door carefully behind him, shutting out the din of the party raging downstairs. He didn’t reach for the light switch. The orange glow of the streetlights outside gave enough illumination for him to see the slight figure huddled on the windowsill and it was the uncommon stillness of the slim body that made Damon’s guts curdle. This had to happen quickly and quietly.

“Graham. This is all shit. I know it too. I’ve been a selfish fool and you’ve every reason to hate me, to hate everything.” No response, but at least he hadn’t moved.

“You’ve no reason to believe anything I say, but there are two things I can guarantee to you. I love you, Graham, more than anything. I always have and I always will. And if you jump out that window, they’ll be picking up two bodies, not one, from the ground.”

Finally, a shudder.  
“Please, can you give me your hand?”

Damon didn’t let his tears come until he felt the boy’s warm body trembling in his arms.

 

13 Studio, London, 2002   
Your eyes. It’s always been your eyes. Even from a picture on the wall. 

I’m putting Beatles in it, Gra. I know you’ll hear it. “Here comes the sun.” “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Every vain instinct is telling me not to, but I don’t care. I need you to know it’s for you. I love you, I miss you. So I wean myself off slowly. 

13 Studio, London, January 2015  
“Did you ever dream you’d have a friend, one to last your whole life?” 

Thought I Was a Spaceman filled the room. Graham’s eyes filled suddenly with tears and he scrubbed at his face, upsetting his glasses and then hastily settling them back on his nose, glancing at his friend from under the dark fringe falling over his forehead and smiling. “S’alright Gra, it’s a bit overwhelming for me, too... here…” and Damon reached for his hand, stroking his palm with his thumb in that old familiar gesture. “It’s good, isn’t it, Dames? It was a good idea, yeah?” 

“Couldn’t be anything else, coming from you. You’ve always been the anchor. Graham…”

Graham took the hand caressing his own and kissed it. “I know, Damon. I love you, too.”


End file.
